Welcome to Survival of the Fittest, a RPing board loosely based off of Koshun Takami's Battle Royale, with its own unique plot and spin on the 'deadly game'. We've been around quite a while, and are now in our thirteenth year, so don't worry about us going anywhere any time soon!

If you're a newcomer and interested in joining, then please make sure you check out the rules. You may also want to read the FAQ, introduce yourself and stop by the chat to meet some of our members. If you're still not quite sure where to start, then we have a great New Member's Guide with a lot of useful information about getting going. Don't hesitate to PM a member of staff (they have purple usernames) if you have any questions about SOTF and how to get started!

Stumbling on the uncertain footing of the mountain trail, Kris's stomach lurched and then tumbled over the tipping point. She collapsed to her knees on the hard ground and choked out a string of bile. Yellow. Ropey. It barely even qualified as vomit. When... when had she eaten last? Kris could barely remember, barely even think straight. Couldn't tell whether the gnawing at her stomach was hunger or guilt or pangs of illness. Flies buzzed around the darkly caked blood staining her hair and face, matting it into clumps. Her clothes were little better off, despite her change of outfit earlier. Lying down in the massacre in the hall of mirrors had drenched Kris in it all over again.

And why not? Someone like her... she might as well look as horrific as she acted. Back there... why had she done that? Kris couldn't even begin to form words, hazard the slightest expectation. There had been an opportunity for murder, an opportunity to remove one more threat to the game... and she'd taken it.

Like a good little player.

Kris choked again as her stomach endeavoured to empty itself even further, the substances dripping down her chin and onto her shirt. She barely had enough togetherness to wipe her face with her sleeve. It hardly mattered. The clothes were as filthy as her face. Even the pristine gift gun she'd found was now smeared with blood and grime. Literal and figurative.

Cradling the gun close, Kris's head jerked up like a marionette. There were figures, not far away. Vague instincts were telling her to be on guard, to be ready to fight. Others...

She exhaled. It might have been relief. Maybe it was disappointment. Maybe the ragged breath was just as it had seemed, the skater forcing herself to keep going when every fibre of her body was screaming to just lie down and give up.

Well, Kris was halfway there, anyway.

Unfocused eyes stared up into the sky. Her vision swam. Somehow lying sprawled out on the gravel felt almost... comfortable. It would be so easy, so easy just to lie here and let it all fade away...

No.

The force of the thought was like a slap to the face.

Up.

She... what would be the point of all this if she just lay down and threw in the towel?

Up.

Kris didn't deserve to still be here, but if some part of her wanted it enough to kill for it, some part of her wanted it enough to get up.

C'mon.

She gritted her teeth, made a fist, then rocked to the side.

Again.

Harder this time, she rolled onto her front.

Up.

Kris had stained her soul from the second she refused to throw her gun into the depths of the swamp. Give up, and the blood on her hands was for nothing.

Do it.

The grenade launcher clattered to the ground, Kris put both hands out in front of her, stones digging into her palms hard enough to leave marks. She forced herself up off the floor.

Keep going.

First one knee underneath her, then the other.

Up.

There was no way back, but staying still was no worse than continuing along this same path. At least...

Nearly there.

Kris forced one foot up onto the ground, pushed as hard as she could, got a second, unsteady trainer in place once again.

Weapon...

She reached down for it, snagged it in her hand, stumbled back as she straightened up.

It was... she hadn't meant to... it had been accident, just... just an accident.

Reika. Accident #1. How many more?

Kimberly was closing in now.

Didn't mean it.

The sway might have been intentional, it might simply have been Kris's weariness playing havoc with her balance. Kimberly's punch went wide, and the first time in a while, Kris's eyes... focused. The other girl stumbled into her, and Kris suddenly stood firm, and with a blur of motion, slammed her knee into Kimberly's stomach before launching a wild overhand punch with her free hand. It was sloppy, but the blow connected with Kimberly's face, knocked her back. Something might have crunched, but Kris was so numb that might have been her own knuckles for all she knew.

~Murderrerrr~

The life went out of Kris's eyes and so too the energy from her body. She stumbled and nearly fell, propping herself up on the grenade launcher. A hand went into her pocket... searching fingers finding ammunition. A grenade.

Kris's hands were numb. The grenade launcher fell from nerveless fingers, clattered somewhere onto the mountain path. Her ears were ringing. It had been so loud, so bright... And the screaming... Had there been screaming? Was it just the selfish, callous little part of her that refused to give in, refused to stop the bloodshed, roaring in triumph? Was it the other part of her, the part that skateboarded and drew pictures and aspired to be in a skating game one day, screaming in mourning for the person she once was?

The dead.

Maybe that was it. Perhaps it was her conscience, wailing its dirge, but...

Kris was beyond guilt now. She'd just attacked. Like a rabid dog.

What am I...?

She stared down at the weapon. One hand jerked spasmodically towards it, then... then she seized that hand with the other. Clamped down on the wrist. Kris looked at her own hands.

Looked at them until a lance of agony cut straight into her back.

It was the first sensation Kris had truly felt for days.

Hurt.

"K-kris won't hurt us."

"MOMMY IT HURTS! IT HURTS!"

Kris is gonna hurt us

Kris staggered forward, but didn't lose her footing, even though she could feel the blood oozing down her back.

She turned around as if in a dream, eyes wide yet barely seeing anything. The scenery spun wildly around her.

"I forgive you."

You can't

Ihurtyou

youcan't

it's not allowed

Kimberly. It was Kimberly. Blood on her face.

She saw the stiffness of her arm. Where she'd been shot.

Kris's fault.

Could've killed her.

She didn't feel regret.

"Ah'll stand by ya Kris, no matter what ya do."

Didn't deserve you

My fault

Etain I'm sorry I'm so sorry

I let you down

I let everyone down

Kris looked at Kimberly.

Kimberly looked back at her.

She hadn't meant it, back on the beach.

But that - Kris hacked as the pain worked its way deeper into her - that wasn't good enough.

"He-hello?"

VoiceJumpSpinSqueezeBangDead

She falls

god what did I do?

"You cow."

Mördare

sick freak

"DON'T YOU HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY FOR YOURSELF! SAY SOMETHING DAMMIT!"

I'm sorry

I'msorryI'msorry

I tried I justcan't

I'msorry

Kris stumbled again, and this time, didn't keep her balance. She fell to her knees with a thud and the blood was everywhere, she could feel it spilling out onto her jeans and there was just way too much of it for her to possibly be okay. And Kris's head lolled back as she stared up into the sky and a cackling black skull buzzed around her head and taunted her for Al. A haunting piano melody drifted through the air and she looked around and saw Reika, Reika sitting at the keys of a mag ificent piano and a smile was on her face even though there was a hole in her ch st.

K is blinked and glance to one side and saw a girl lying back on the ground next to her. And she looked back and scow ed accusingly because she was impaled to the grou d with a huge metal spike and Kris realised that it was Janet. Kris heard a forlo n howl and there stood a wolf, blo d matting its fur, half of its he d missing. Somewhere, anoth r girl sobbed for their mother, cr ing with pain, desp rate for help, slowly dy ng as she wept.

And Kris tur ed her head and wh re the w lf had be n now inste d was a disjo nted bundle of body par s like some kind of twis ed jigs w puzzle. And she kn w that it was Sunil, and she had d ne that to h m. Then Kris lo ked down to the ground and star ed to cry, te rs spi ling for e ery fu k-up, s arti g f om t at sec nd s e h dn't thr wn the g n aw y in th s amp.

She whi per d

"I'm sorry."

"Tha's alroight, Kris."

And she was wrapped in warm and reassuring arms and it didn't hurt any more.